


All It Needed To Be

by wtgw



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Best Friends, Cheating, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtgw/pseuds/wtgw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd never know how much he sodding loved her.  And she didn't need to; I mean, it wasn't as if he had a chance.  He wasn't *that* drunk.  But she was the best friend he'd ever had... that was all they would ever be.  And that was alright by old Oghren.</p><p>Character study of everyone's favorite/least favorite drunken Dwarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All It Needed To Be

She’d never know just how much he sodding loved her.  And he knew that no matter how much he tried, he’d never love anyone else in quite the same way.  
  
Ah hell, he knew he had no chance.  Seriously, no chance.   He wasn’t _that_ stupid.  Or that _drunk_.  Besides, he was a married man.  Sure, he’d joke about it and she’d flirt with him around the table or the campfire, but that was all there was to it.  
  
Maybe that’s all there had to be.  
  
She’d seen him at his lowest – his murderous rage, his infuriated betrayal, that one time that he got so piss drunk that he forgot to laugh instead of cry and Ancestors wasn’t _that_ just fuckin’ pitiful.  Damn embarrassing that was.  Only a few days after his first time on the surface, and he felt like a sodding child.  There was nothing but sky and air, and so damn _much_ of it, and he just wanted nothing more than to sink back into the earth and be with Branka again.  Even if she didn’t love him anymore.  Even if she never had.  Nug-humping, carpet-eating bitch.  
  
He’d gotten so blasted that night that he’d started cracking jokes about how he’d have loved to watch Branka goin’ at it with Hespith and it had taken about twenty minutes to realize that he wasn’t laughing anymore, but sobbing.  The Warden put her arm around his shoulders and held him close, like Branka had when his mother died.  She ignored the tears on his face and let him talk and bitch and whine about his traitorous whore of a wife until he passed out.  He woke up the next morning in bed, cleaned up and tucked in.  
  
She’d never talked about it again.  Never made fun of him, or even brought it up.  And the others – the pike-twirler, the elf, even the witch, all had the decency never to mention it either.  He had a feeling it was only cause she’d told them not to.  
  
By the stone, she was a hell of a woman.  
  
Lisbet, her name was.  Lisbet Cousland.  He never called her that – no one did.  Apparently her brother did, but that whole year she’d thought he was dead or missing, and anytime someone had tried to use her name she’d snap at them like a hungry bronto.  Such as it was, he’d just gotten into the habit of calling her “Warden,” like the others, and “Commander” now that he was one of her crew.  
  
That was a nice feeling.  Bein’ part of her crew.  It had been all well and good (or bloody terrifying, to be honest) last year, but to actually be a Warden, to be entrusted with those secrets and that bond… he felt for the first time like he actually had a place.  He’d lost his respect as an Orzammar Warrior years ago, he’d never really felt at home with Branka (besides, she was always in the Shaperate, reading), and even as one of the famous “Blight Companions” (heh, that name still got him kinda tingley and important-feelin’) he’d been scared to snot of falling off the world into the sky.  But _now_?  
  
Stone around him, fortress protecting them, even a few dwarves to chat with so he didn’t lose his stone-sense completely.  Plenty of forays into the Deep Roads, reclaiming the glory he’d lost underground.  Plenty of food, lots of fancy drink, and even more less-fancy drink.  And he had the nugget and Felsi living in Amaranthine now.  It felt like a real… like a real _home_ or something.  And he had her to thank for it.  
  
Hmmph, he grumbled, with a smile on his face, before he downed the rest of his ale.  There was the usual chatter about the room, but none of it was particularly interesting.  Dworkin and Anders were busy testing out lyrium… stuff – whatever it was they did – so his drinking buddies weren’t available; Justice and Velanna were discussing some weird present the Commander’d given one of them; and Sigrun was reading, and she got awful sore if you interrupted her while she tried to work her way through the words (and wasn’t that funny? A Casteless – a sodding _Casteless_ – reading! Oh the crazy things you’d see, working for the Commander).  
  
The Howe kid was a little shit.  A tough-as-nails, respectable little shit, but still a sodding annoyance and no fun at all to drink with.  
  
So, with no one to drink with, and all of the soldiers dull as dust to talk to, Oghren sat there, mulling over his life and what it had become in these last few years.  
  
It had become sodding wonderful.  
  
“Ho, Oghren,” came the Commander’s voice, strangely light for someone with so much authority.  
  
“Hey, Commander,” he grumbled with a smirk.  “Y’know, I was just thinking about you.”  
  
“Again?  What was I wearing this time?”  She snorted and sat down across from him, tankard of her own in hand.  
  
“A… a pretty pink dress.  Lots of… fluff.  And… dress stuff.  Sod, I dunno.”  The two of them laughed as he took another swig.  “What the hell do I know about dressy girly shit.”  
  
“Probably as much as I do,” she responded with a shrug.  
  
“Aw c’mon,” he chortled.  “I bet you used to get all fancied up fer yer big Nobility shindigs, yeah?”  
  
“You’ve been talking to Fergus, then?  Don’t believe a word he says.  To tell the truth, _he’s_ the one with all the pretty pink dresses.  And you can tell him I said so.”  
  
Heheh.  So she was in one of her funny moods.  That was good.  Meant nothing was out to kill them today.  Or that she’d already killed it right back.  
  
“Will do, Commander.”  
  
“Right.  So what were you thinking about then, if not my choice of ensemble?”  
  
“Yer what?  Oh.  Yeah,” he continued, sentimentality clearing away some of the alcoholic fuzz from his brain.  “I, er– I just wanted to thank you and all.”  
  
“What, _again_?” She grinned over her mug as she lifted it to her lips.  She had a real pretty smile.  
  
“Yeah, _again_.  Now shuttup and let me sodding finish,” he grumbled, the quirk of his mouth belying his grumpy tone.  “You know you done a lot fer me.  We both know you have.  I just… well, I just wanted to thank you again for making me a Warden.  It was the best thing I’ve ever done, and… and I’m proud to have you as a friend.  And as a Commander.”  
  
Aww, she looked all sweet and tender-like when she heard that.  He should say it more often, but then he might get a reputation for it.  He already had one to live up to – two would be too much.  
  
“You helped keep me on track… I mighta just abandoned the nugget if you hadn’t talked me out of it.  You know Felsi and I aren’t really… well, it’s not puppies and rainbows like it was with you and the boy,” he said head tilting down respectfully at the thought of their fallen comrade.  Alistair’d earned his respect on the roof of Fort Drakon.  It’d been brave as all hell, even if Oghren’d never really forgive him for dying that way and breakin’ the poor Commander’s heart.  
  
“You know Felsi and I aren’t really in… _love_ or whatever,” he continued.  “But… we’re a family.  Best one I’ve ever had, you besides.  And I’ve got you to thank for that.  Hell, I’ve got you to thank for everything.”  
  
“Mabari crap, you’ve earned it all.  You’re the one who came up here and practically demanded I make you a Warden.  I didn’t want to, you know,” she admitted, quickly amending that statement at his startled look.  “No, no, I mean… I… well, I didn’t want to put you through the joining.  I didn’t want _another_ friend to die,” she clarified, looking down sadly.  “Maker, it terrified me when you downed that whole damn cup, though.  I kept kicking myself for letting you for through with it…”  
  
“C’mon, Commander,” he chuckled, despite being honestly touched at her concern.  “You know I can handle my drink,” said Oghren with a wink and a swig.  
  
“Of course,” she smiled down at her tankard.  “Don’t know what I was thinking.”  
  
They sat in companionable silence until Oghren sighed and spoke again – an admission he had actually put off until now.  
  
“Her, uh, her name’s Lizzie, by the way.”  At the Commander’s confused look, he amended, “The nugget.  S’short fer Lisbet.”  
  
The Commander looked astonished.  Affectionate, even.  “You named your child after me?”  Hell, there came that mushy-emotional-girly look again.  Those big eyes all watery and her little mouth pursed and smiling.  Stone but she was a fine specimen of a woman, even for a human.  
  
“Well yeah, didn’t want her ta be stuck with something like Ulga or Brünhi,” he brushed her off.  “Took a little convincing for Felsi – she said it didn’t sound like a proper Dwarva name.”  He laughed heartily at that.  “Only took about twenty minutes to remind her how proper she ain’t,” he said with a lascivious wink.  
  
“Twenty minutes?  My, that sounds like a record in length for you,” she laughed in response, but Oghren swore he could see her eyes tear up a bit more.  Better fix that…  
  
“Sod off, I can go fer hours!” He grinned and lifted his mug, looking around the room and shouting, “I’ll take ‘em _all_ on!  Bring on the ladies!”  
  
“ _NO_.” came the response from the corner where Sigrun was sitting and reading.  
  
“Ah, I didn’t want some Dead girl anyway!”  
  
The Commander laughed, bright and loud.  She had a sodding magical laugh, she did.  Like bells and sparkles and other... nice things.  Stone, he sounded like the pike-twirler.  He was pathetic.  
  
“Maker, Oghren,” she said through her laughter, wiping stray tears from her eyes.  “Don’t ever change.”  
  
He smiled.  
  
“I won’t.  Not least until I get all ghoulie in thirty years or so.  _That_ should be interesting.  Maybe I’ll pay a visit to Orzammar before my calling.  Scare the crap outta them sodding, pansy-arsed nobles, at the very least.  Heheh.”  
  
A momentary silence while he finished off his ale and wiped his face down with the tail of his braided beard.  The Commander spoke first.  
  
“Thank you, Oghren.”  Huh?  Thank _him_?  Fer what?  “You… I probably wouldn’t made it down off that rooftop if it hadn’t been for you.  And you’ve made this whole… _leading_ people thing so much easier.  Just you being here… it reminds me who I am.  That I’m not some ‘sodding, pansy-arsed noble.’”  
  
“ _Never_ ,” he promised.  She smiled.  
  
“Well thank you.”  She reached across the table and she better not be taking his mug away but no, she was taking his hand.  “Thank you for being my friend.  My _best_ friend.  You’re the only one who’s stuck by me no matter what choices I had to make.  You’re the only one who hasn’t left.  Who I can really depend on.  So thank you.  You are… you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”  
  
Goddammit he was _not_ going to cry like a fucking woman.  He looked down, sniffed in, and shoved his empty mug at her.  
  
“Get me another ale, wouldya, Commander?”  
  
“Not a problem, Warden,” she responded with a wide smile, picking up his mug and standing up.  “Be right back.”  
  
As she walked over to the cask, Oghren brushed away one or two not-tears and smiled to himself.  She called him Warden.  Heh.  Like he used to call her.  Heheh.  And she said he was her best friend.  _The_ best.  Sodding honor that was; better than being crowned a damn Paragon.  He was important to her.  Maybe not as important as she was to him – Ancestors knew, he loved her, he was never gonna have a chance with her, anyway.  But, he supposed, he didn’t really need one.  They flirted and drank and talked and she’d even braided his sodding beard when he was too drunk to do it.  She was his best friend.  And apparently, he was hers too.  
  
That was all that it had to be.  
  
“…I’m not waiting all day, Commander, where’s that ale?”  
  
“Shut up, Oghren, or I’ll throw you in the stocks for insubordination!”  
  
“Heh.  Sounds kinky.”  
  
FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know, this was a rather weird story. I just was playing through Awakenings again and it occurred to me... why is it that Oghren is the only one that sticks around? Even if you have a relationship with Zev or Leliana, they both take off to do their own thing. Oghren is the only one who always sticks by the Warden and supports whatever he/she does. He spends years looking for his missing wife who everyone assumes is dead, ends up having to KILL her to save everyone else, and he didn't whine or complain or bitch or cry or even mourn! He just shut up and kept fighting and drinking because that was all he could do. Pretty freaking tragic... and pretty freaking awesome.
> 
> I just wanted to do a bit of a character study, and it turned into a Buddy Comedy. XD Well, I had fun anyway. Hope you did too.


End file.
